Skippers past The hard way
by cuddles1234XD
Summary: julian has everyone come to a zoo meating at the zooveneer shop. talking about himself utill only he mourice and skipper are awake. He continues to talk until he mentions pain. after a quick argument skipper pases out, and spirals into a terible nightmare
1. Chapter 1

This is my first TPOM fanfic story so it might not be the best. I'll try though.

It was a normal day at the Central Park Zoo. Skipper and the gang were doing their own things.

Kowalski was playing with a few chemicals separate from the others so that he wouldn't hurt them if something went wrong.

Private was playing cards with Skipper. They were playing *Egyptian Rat Race. Skipper was winning.

Rico was painting. He wasn't painting anything special. He was just painting.

That was when Julian barged in.

"Penguins!" He shouted.

"UHG! What do you want ring tail?" Skipper asked obviously not in the mood to deal with Julian. He wasn't feeling right at all. He had been having nightmares. They were becoming worse too.

"I am inviting you to come to my meeting to discuss the important matters." He responded

"Important matters? About what?" Private asked confused.

Julian moved up to Private as if to tell him a secret" that is what you will be finding out at the uh meeting. " he whispered loudly "Yes! So you penguins must come to find out what it is for. Aha! So you are coming yes?

"It couldn't hurt Skipper." Kowalski stated

"Ah uh" Rico grunted in agreement

Skipper looked over at private. The look on his face told skipper that he wanted to go. Skipper really wasn't in the mood but Kowalski was right. What could possibly go wrong? They all wanted to go and Skipper didn't feel like explaining why he didn't want too. "Oh alright" He sighed

"Yes!" Julian shouted them he left.

Skipper rubbed his forehead like he had a head ach. He really wasn't in the mood for one of Julian's useless announcements. But then again he usually didn't personally ask them to go to one of them. Skipper wasn't feeling right. He wasn't sick. He didn't feel sick. He just, didn't feel right. He had a feeling that this meeting that Julian was having was going to end badly. He didn't know why. He was afraid of what could happen tonight. But his curiosity drove him to find out. To discover why he was feeling this way.

And he would soon find out ….

They went to the Zoovanier shop that night for Julian's meeting.

Marlene, Bada, Bing, Phil, Mason, and the other lemurs were also there.

Private and Kowalski were talking to Marlene. Rico was listening in on the conversation. Skipper was standing away from them trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Hey Skipper!" Marlene called

"Huh?" Skipper responded. Marlene had broke his train of thought.

"Are you ok?" She asked sympathetically

"Uh, yea I feel fine" he was lying. He still didn't know why he wasn't feeling right.

He walked over to Marlene and the boys. Skipper though it would ease his mind.

"So where's Ringtail?" Skipper asked.

"I am here silly penguins." Julian's voice rang behind him.

Julian didn't startle Skipper. He startled private who was standing right next to skipper.

"Why are we here Ringtail?" Skipper was getting annoyed. He wanted to get this so called meeting over with. His stomach was bothering him. It was that feeling. Something bad was going to happen and he knew it.

Then Maurice stood up on a stool that mort dragged over and talked into a bamboo megaphone.

"Alright everyone may I have your attention!" he shouted.

The room went silent. Maurice stepped away to let Julian talk. He mostly talked about himself. Skipper herd nothing but Julian for hours. Bada, Bing, Marlene, Kowalski, Private, Rico, Mort, Phil and Mason were sleeping. Skipper wanted to find out why his stomach was bothering him. He had to find out what he had such a bad feeling about.

Then Julian said it. He said the words that would set Skipper off.

"I have suffered." He said.

Skipper herd that. He was awake he just wasn't paying attention to Julian. Not until he started talking about pain. That was what Skipper had a bad feeling about.

"Yes. I have been through pain, and suffering. More than you could imagine"

Skipper wasn't thinking straight. He was letting his thoughts come out. He was announcing them. Something he wouldn't usually do.

"Did you get a paper cut?" Skipper asked sarcastically

"No. it was a broken limb. My leg. My poor royal leg. It was like a thousand paper cuts inside of my skin." Julian replied solemnly.

"I've probably been in more pain in year than you have in your entire life." Skipper said. Remembering.

"Oh really penguin." Julian challenged

"Do you think I'm lying?" Skipper asked defensively

"I don't believe you Skippah. How much pain can one penguin possibly endure?" Julian was obviously not buying the fact that skipper experienced more pain than him.

"A lot." Skipper replied blankly. He was remembering his childhood. _I knew it._ Skipper thought. _I knew something was going to go wrong tonight. Why did I agree to come here? _He was regretting even thinking about coming. Now he knew why his stomach bothered him. Now he knew, and he wished he didn't.

"And uh… how much is that exactly" Julian said. He sounded like he was afraid of the answer. Skipper was remembering. The horrible nights in that horrible place. The torture the misery. His family. He couldn't answer Julian's question. He felt himself start to shiver. His eyes started to sting. Then without warning he hit the floor, unconscious.

"AH!" Julian shouted. He didn't know what had just happened, but it freaked him out. He never expected Skipper to just pass out. He always thought that Skipper was the strongest of the penguins.

"What happened!" Maurice asked freaked

Julian didn't answer instead he ran over to Kowalski, who was sleeping near the racks of T-shirts. "PENGUIN WAKE UP!" Julian said shaking the penguin. "WAKE up!" He shouted again. He was freaking out. He was in full blown panic.

"uhg, What's the matter Julian?" Kowalski mumbled

"It's, its Skippah!" Julian replied, still freaking out.

"Yea, what about skipper?" Kowalski asked sitting up. Julian usually freaked out about minor problems. Well they were minor to the penguin s. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at Julian with an uninterested look on his face. _What could possibly be wrong with Skipper? _Kowalski asked himself. Whatever it was Kowalski wasn't worried. Skipper could take care of himself.

"He, he, he passed out." Julian informed.

"Well we all did." Private said. He woke up when Julian was trying to wake Kowalski. He was waiting for Julian to say something that wasn't obvious. But Julian seemed frightened. And private knew that it had to be something that happened before Skipper fell asleep. That's what he thought Kowalski was trying to get out of Julian. He decided to help Kowalski get the information. Well he just wanted to know why Julian was so freaked by skipper passing out. _Passing out. _Private thought. Julian didn't say that Skipper fell asleep. He said that Skipper had passed out. _Passed out… That's it Skipper didn't just drift to sleep. He passed out. Something's not right. Why would Skipper just, pass out?_

"No, NO Penguin!" Julian said franticly, "He fell"

"He fell?" Kowalski asked skeptically. "Fell from where? Why was he climbing in the first place?"

"He wasn't climbing silly penguin why would he do that?" Julian seemed to have calmed down "NO! He was just standing there and he just, fell to the ground."

Kowalski and private glanced at each other, confused. "So you're telling us that Skipper just passed out? He wasn't laying down or sitting or anything like that?" Kowalski asked

"No he was just standing there and he fell to the ground. How hard is it for you to understand this?" Julian replied.

"It's true!" Maurice chimed in.

"So let me get this straight. Skipper was standing, doing what exactly?" Kowalski asked, still trying to figure out why Julian was so freaked by Skipper passing out.

"talking" Julian replied totally calm

"Something isn't right." Private stated still thinking things trough.

"What?" Kowalski asked. What private had just said made no sense to him. What was Private talking about?

"Skipper wouldn't just pass out. Something's wrong with him." Private was just comprehending what he just said. He knew something was wrong. He knew something was wrong with skipper before the 'meeting' started. Something _was_ wrong with Skipper. And Private was trying to figure out whether he wanted to know or not. Because, Skipper never really just passed out. There was always a reason.

Now Kowalski understood. Private was right too. Skipper wouldn't just pass out. There had to be a reason for it. _What could it be? He could be sick. But Skipper hardly ever gets sick. I haven't seen him sick in a while. But he could be sick. Or he could've had a though that forced him into unconsciousness. But what sort of thought could do that? To Skipper? _Kowalski was trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with his friend.

"What were you talking about before Skipper passed out?" Kowalski asked. He was going to get to the bottom of things before the night was over.

"Pain" Julian answered.

"What?" Kowalski asked in disbelief. Why would they be talking about pain? It wasn't a very happy subject. He thought that Julian hated pain

"We were talking about pain. That is not bad is it?"

"And why were you two talking about pain?" Kowalski asked. He was quite shocked actually. He thought that talking to Julian about pain would be the last thing that Skipper wanted to do. He was confused. Very confused.

Julian was about to answer when Skipper moaned. He was still sleeping. But his dream was anything but pleasant.

Kowalski grabbed a plush toy of a nearby shelf and threw it at Rico."Rico get up." He whispered loudly."Come over here"

Rico got up and walked over to Kowalski and Private. They were sitting on their knees by skipper, who was still sleeping.

"Wha?" he asked. Kowalski sounded worried. Rico wanted to know why.

"Something's wrong with Skipper." Private said. He was beginning to panic.

Skipper was stirring in his sleep. They knew he was having a nightmare. He was sweating, and his eyes were tightly shut. His breathing was uneven. They knew that whatever the nightmare was, it was a bad one. A really bad one. And they couldn't wake him up. Skipper was usually a light sleeper. They began to worry.

Meanwhile in Skippers mind a dreadful memory was playing. Like a horror movie. He was reliving a nightmare that he wanted to forget. A nightmare that haunted him….


	2. the nightmare begins

IT wasn't a very pleasant dream. Of course not it was a nightmare. But Skipper knew that he was sleeping. He was begging himself to wake up. He did not want to go through this again. He had been having this nightmare for the past three days. He was tired of it. It was driving him insane. But he was good at hiding his emotions. He did it every day. But that wouldn't help him now. Nothing could. He didn't think that an atomic bomb going off would wake him. That for a moment scared him. But only a moment because the nightmare was about to begin. And he would again wake up gasping for air. He would again have to look around to make sure that he actually woke up. He would have to make sure the others didn't notice. But he would have to worry about that when he woke up. He wished that would happen soon before anything happened.

Wish wasted.

Then it began. First as flashes of the pain, the fire, the melting ice, and them. Those foul heartless people. Those murderers. The ones that had brought the first, and worst devastation to his life. And then…the image he always wanted to remember. The only image in the whole nightmare that he wanted to remember. Them… John and Valery, his parents. Then the image that scared him for life. Their lifeless bodies. Lying on the ground…in pools of blood. Battered and beaten. Covered in cuts and bruises. And then a single spear…

Through the heart.

Two spears.

Two dead hearts.

One crushed hopeless, devastated heart.

And that's how it always began. With the images that filled him with anger, devastation, and brought back the empty feeling in his heart. It was at this time that he would realize that wishing to wake up was hopeless. That he would have to watch, and relive the torture. And then came the question… Why now? Why now while everything was starting to feel right again? When he was starting to feel safe again. It was like his memories didn't want him to feel safe. Like they wanted him to always fear. Fear that one day, it could happen again. To his best friends. His brothers.

But there was nothing he could do to stop that. He always believed that his memory was wrong. He made himself believe that if they attacked him again… he could save everyone. Even if it cost him his life. So with that thought in mind, he always, eventually forgot about it.

But he could never forget the sirens. The immensely loud sirens that signaled an attack. Skipper was always afraid of the sirens. But he was at home. With his parents, so he felt safe. He was cowering in the corner of his room when his mother came and got him. And after, maybe 10, 15 minutes he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he saw red. Fire. But it was the middle of winter. How could a fire even get started? It was confusing and at first he thought it was just a dream. But soon found out that it wasn't.

A penguin with a wild evil grin came into the room. He didn't know for what, or what was about to unfold. But he was scared senseless. He huddled closer to his mother as his father fought with the guy. He didn't remember what they fought about. Then nightmare didn't register and words either. The fight was instead made up of mumbles. Unrecognizable words. But skipper at the time didn't care. He wanted the man to leave. He wanted to see white snow again, not red fire. He wanted so desperately to go to bed and wake up with everything back to normal.

But things were going in the exact opposite direction. The yelling had turned into a battle. Skippers father was winning, so far. But he was also taking a beating. The man with the evil grin fought back. Hard. They threw punches at each other at threw each other against the walls. It was a tough battle. All the while his mother was squeezing. Yelping almost every time John got hit. Skipper was uncontrollably crying. He couldn't stop. He was too scared. He didn't want to die. And at that moment he thought that he would for sure. He was still a young kid. Too young to be without protection. Too young to be witnessing this fight. He was helpless.

John had fought the man with the evil grin off, and he backed away. Skippers father came and sat down next to Skipper and Valery. They stayed like that for a while. Feeling safe. Secure. Feeling like the worst was over. And they sat there huddled together in that one room, where they could hear screams from families that didn't have a father like John to protect them. And there, with his mother rocking him back, and forth, Skipper fell asleep, with tears of fear still pouring from his eyes.

This is a midway point between Skippers initial pass out, and what will most likely be one of the 2 or 3 bad chapters. ….. For all skipper lovers. I too am a lover. But I came up with a reason to skippers paranoia. And this is it. It's sad and may become disturbing but stick with me. There is a ray of sunshine at the end. I Promise!


	3. the most painful wound

There was nothing that they could do. They tried to wake him. They even pricked him with a needle. But Skipper was still stuck in his nightmare.

It was like something was holding his mind down. Making watch this nightmare. Making him relive the misery the pain.

What happened next would send him back through the most painful time of his life. And all they could do is watch him. Watch his reactions to his nightmare.

Skipper was about to go through what scarred him for life. The death of John and Valery.

The next part of the nightmare was this and this only after this part his brain automatically shutdown. Everything shut off. It went off for exactly one minute. Even his breathing. After this his brain turns back on and the nightmare continues. He will never share his nightmare this he knows for sure.

And so this next part will only be known to him. And the murderers.

Skipper woke up in Valery's arms. He felt safe. John was watching the door. Skipper knew it wasn't over. He knew then that something would happen. Someone would come back. And they wouldn't lose. That's what he felt. Hopeless. This was getting worse. It wasn't going to get better. He was shaking uncontrollably now. He didn't want things to get worse. He wanted whoever attacked to leave. To never come back to what was left of his home. He wanted, he wished, he hoped. But it was no use. He prayed but nothing would work. The fire got bigger. The screams that came from others outside became worse. Pleading screams that echoed in his ears. They could be next. He didn't speak he couldn't. But he wanted to ask if they would be left alone.

John came and sat with them. Valery was still sleeping. John shook her awake.

"Honey they're coming."

"No. They can't." Valery cried quietly.

Skipper had the same tears in his eyes. They couldn't come. They couldn't kill them. They just couldn't come. They couldn't come and do whatever it was that they were doing. He started to cry again This time… he would never stop.

Then they came in. they were exactly like the grinning man. They had grins to. They were scary looking. They had blood on them. And he didn't think it was theirs.

"Get the kid." One said.

Valery gripped him tighter. He was having trouble breathing but he didn't care. They couldn't have him. They couldn't take him.

But they did anyway. He could feel their flippers as they tried to grab him. He was screaming and Valery was too. Then heard it. The smack that loosened Valery's grip on him. He screamed. It was blood curdling scream. Now. It would happen now. Now he would find out where there screams came from..

"Kill them." He said. He took Skipper and the six men who had come in behind him grabbed John and Valery.

"NO!" Skipper screamed. He cried. He couldn't believe that this was happening. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. He screamed and kicked and tried to break free but he couldn't. Two of the men were holding Valery. Three were holding John and one was beating him. Punching him. Hurting him. Both Skipper and Valery were screaming, pleading for mercy. Pleading, crying, screaming, nothing worked. All he could do was watch.

And he was terrified.

When John was almost unconscious they switched to Valery. They did the same thing to her. Beat, punched, hurt.

Skipper was crying his eyes dry. This wasn't happening. This wasn't it just wasn't.

Then it happened. The man threw Skipper against the wall. Skipper sat up and pushed himself against the wall.

And watched. The man took out two spears.

He smiled at Skipper.

He looked at his men.

"drop them."

He said with such hatred it sent a million shivers up Skippers spine.

They droped them. John and Valery moaned in pain.

"Look away Skipper." John moaned.

"Look away."

But he couldn't.

He was frozen with fear.

How did this happen? How could this happen?

The man lifted the spears above his head.

Then threw them.

They landed…

In his parents Chests.

Then the man left.

And his men followed him.

"NO!" Skipper screamed. He ran over to his parents. They were laying on their backs, gasping for air. They were dying.

"No." Skipper cried.

"Skipper." Valery whispered. "Don't be afraid."

"Mama. Don't go mama." Skipper pleaded.

"Baby, I will always be with you." Valery said.

"We will never be far away son." John whispered.

"Papa."

"Hush now child. Don't be afraid. Don't you cry baby." Valery whispered. The life was slowly draining from her bady. Skipper could see it.

"No don't go. Please don't go. Please." Skippered cried.

"We don't want to go." John said softly. "We don't honest."

"But we have to go baby." Valery whispered. "Promise me. Promise me you'll be brave."

"No Mama, no." Skipper cried.

"Promise me. Promise me Skipper." Valery pleaded.

"I Promise mama." Skippered cried. " I promise."

"We love you skipper." She said.

"We love you very much." John whispered.

Then they both gaspedfor breath.

"NO! NO PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE ! DON'T LEAVE ME! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME." Skipper cried.

They both smiled at him. Their last good bye.

"I love you." And those were the last three words that they would hear. Those three words.

Then their eyes closed forever.

Skippered cried. He never felt so devastated in his entire life.

"NOOO!" He screamed.

He curled up between them and cried himself to sleep. He didn't want to leave them. He was in pain. Nothing that he would experience in his entire life to come would ever hurt him more, than the pain he felt that day.

That's when he turned off. And it was then, that he wished he would never wake up…

I started to cry during that last part. It was tourture to write. I can't say I liked writing that. I cried though. I am not kidding. I bawled. Ok maybe I didn't cry that hard but you get the point.


	4. Torment

The guys had to watch as Skipper responded to events in his nightmare. They couldn't do anything. If they could they would. But right now. They couldn't.

Skipper didn't like the next part. He didn't like any of it. But he hated the next part. Absolutely hated it…

Skipper didn't move the next morning. He couldn't. He didn't want to go anywhere. He stayed where he was. Curled up between Valery and John.

They were cold. Motionless. He didn't want to remember that they were dead. He wished with his whole heart that they would wake up and tell him that it would be ok. That they were alive and he was just in a nightmare. Even though he knew it would be a lie.

He didn't cry anymore. He was deathly tired. He felt sick. Like someone had ripped his stomach out. And his heart. So he stayed still. Right where he was. And drowned himself in his memories.

His first Christmas. His first present. Everything he did with his father. How John taught him how to swim. All the stories that his parents told him. The games, the activities, the sports, everything. It brought a smile to his miserable face. His miserable feeling.

It faded when he thought about how he would never do any of it… ever again.

Then he heard a noise. It was very faint. But it was words. And they were getting closer. Some, group of people were coming towards him. This time he didn't have any protection.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see them. Not wanting them to come into the torn up hut that had once been his home. He didn't have a home now.

He held his breath when he thought that they were right outside the door. To make it look like he was dead to. But they still walked in. He heard them.

"I thought you said the kid was alive!" one of them shouted. His voice was harsh and aggravated.

"I-i- he was alive! He was breathing and, and- and crying too!" another one replied. His voice was low, and shared.

"Well that where is he! I only see dead ones here!" the first man shouted again.

Skipper had held his breath the entire time. He made not a single movement. He was dead. To them

"He is alive. He has to be. He must be faking it." The second one said confidently.

"Don't pick him up. Then he'll look out of place." Another one said. His voice was dark and mysterious.

Then Skipper couldn't take it any more. His lungs hurt. But he had kept his breath in, until he blacked out. The last thing he heard was someone yelling 'I told you he was alive!'

When Skipper woke up again he was chained to a table like surface. He couldn't move at all. The room he was in was fully, totally and utterly, a solid gray. No door that he could see. Or the floor. But he suspected it to be right below the table, like all floors were. And the room was cold. Colder than Antarctica. He was shaking without even realizing it. He felt how cold it was when he fully woke up.

His flippers hurt. Terribly. He looked up at them to see that the chains went straight through his flippers. There was no wrist on a penguin.

Then he realized tears were streaming down his face. But he couldn't scream. He couldn't even whisper. What happened to his voice? Where did it go? Did they do something to him? His throat didn't hurt at all. Where was he?

Skipper started to get overwhelmed with fear. How did this happen? Why did it happen to him?

That's all that ran through his head.

Why? Why? How? Why?

That's all he could think about. Nothing would comfort him now. No one would save him.

He remembered who these guys were now. They were city assassins. Marauders. Crazy people. They were the ones who destroyed cities and towns. Tribes and kingdoms all over Antarctica. They were ruthless. Heartless. Skipper saw firsthand that they couldn't care less about the lives of others. It was horrible. And sent chills up and down his spine just thinking about it. His mother told him about the crazy ones. And now he knew what she meant when she said that they could crush a thousand hearts and not care. He had heard many screams. He didn't know how many. But there was a lot.

He stared up at the ceiling. He thought about his life. It was a normal nice, happy life. Now it was full of fear, and the unknown, Pain and sadness. He didn't like where his life was going. He was afraid of pain. Afraid of everything that was dangerous. And right now, he was terrified of everything.

He took a deep breath. His mother told him that it was one way to calm down and almost never failed.

It failed. Skipper couldn't calm down.

And to make matters worse. A door, that Skipper couldn't see, opened. Someone walked in. he could hear their footsteps. The man was just walking around.

Skipper freaked. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he didn't know where he was, he was in pain, and now there was a mystery man in the room. He was terrified. He tryied to scream. But nothing came out.

The man laughed. He had a low voice, not very low, but not high. Sort of in between. But the laugh was pure evil.

Skipper knew that he was a bad guy right away. That didn't help himat all. That just made him more terrified than ever. Evil people had evil intentions.

He laughed again, lauder. "You cannot speak boy. You can't even whisper." He informed evilly.

_Really? I didn't know that._ Skipper thought. He was terrified. But he couldn't help it. He already knew that, and was frustrated that he didn't know more. His fear still had the upper hand on him though.

"And I'm afraid to say that you've just entered a world of pain and misery." He said with fake sympathy. "We made you swallow a mute pill. It is half robotic. So I control when you can and cannot speak. That trick you tried to pull, it was clever. But you are just a little tine boy. You can't hold your breath for such a long time." He said, like he cared. But he didn't. "And." He continued, back to his evil demeanor. "It aggravated us. You just bought a first class ticket to torture."

Skipper shuddered.

The man walked up to him. He was tall, very much so. And he was grinning, evilly.

Skipper looked up at him. Pleading with his eyes.

"You tried to escape us. We don't like it when people do that to us. So starting today, we are going to torture your little soul to death." He went right into Skippers face. "When we're done with you boy. You will be just another piece of trash on the street." Then he laughed. And then he left.

Skipper, not being able to talk, cried silently, he was terrified. Scared to death, but he couldn't tell anyone. He was alone. And feared he always would be.


	5. Depression

The man said that the pain would start this very day. But he had been laying there for a long time.

The mad man had left a very long time ago. Or so it seemed to him.

Skipper couldn't stop thinking about what the man had been talking about. He didn't even know what torture was. He wondered about it for a long time before giving up and thinking about his parents. They were spirits now. They would live among the sky walkers now. And they were probably crying themselves. They got upset when a kid punched him at school. That cheered him up a bit. It's been said that if you have a spirit friend, death will not come easily to you. Skipper didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He wondered about that for a while. Until the door opened again. He still couldn't see it. But this time it was flung open. The person threw it open so hard that it waked the wall with a very startling _Bang!_ He walked over to Skipper. He had no emotion. Went straight to his work. Didn't say a word.

Skipper watched him undo the chains on his feet. But he didn't move. He couldn't words can't describe how terrified he was. He was numb with fear. He wanted to go home. But it was no longer there. He wanted his mother and father to protect him. But they were no longer living. He wanted to be free. But he was in some sort of building. He wanted…he wanted…he wanted. But everything was the opposite of what he wanted. Every single thing. He was terrified about what the man meant.

He won himself a first class ticket to misery. Or something like that. Torture. He didn't know what that n=meant. But he knew it wasn't good. And he was afraid of it. He didn't know why though. The man was right about one thing. He would be thrown to the side of the street. He would be worthless after he got out of here. Scared to trust anyone. He knew it. Deep down he knew. He knew that his life just took the steepest hill imaginable.

Down. And it was continuing to drop.

He tried to scream when the man took the chains in his flippers out. He squirmed in pain. Tears raced down his face. But he didn't make a sound. The muter, whatever it was, was still inside of him. And the man still wanted him to be silenced. Skipper couldn't take it. He didn't want anything else to happen to him. He lost his family. His home, he had nowhere to go. What else did these crazed penguins have to take from him.

Confidence.

Skipper realized that these guys wanted him to be the scardest, most frightened thing on the planet. And he knew they would succeed. Most of his confidence was gone anyway. He knew he would never get it back. He just knew it.

The expressionless man threw Skipper over his shoulder. Skipper squirmed. Tried to struggle free. But it was no use. This guy was too strong. He couldn't really move a lot either. Or use his flippers. They hurt. It was the worst pain the he had ever felt. It was unbearable. Every time he even _moved_ his flipper a sharp, immense pain shot through his entire body. And he would silently scream again.

The way this man carried him didn't help. Almost every time he took a step Skippers flippers would hit his back. And every time a shot of pain filled his body. And he would silently scream again. He had been crying almost every ten minutes. He was filled with too much pain to think about that though.

Then they reached their destination. Skipper was thrown onto a cold metal table. But he wasn't chained down. The man left. Locking the door as he closed it. Skipper heard it lock.

It didn't matter that he was free of chains. He still couldn't escape. He wished he could though. Not because of what he felt. But because of what he saw.

There were multiple scary looking things on every single wall.

There were, maces, whips, spiked rings. A pot with liquid metal, which sat over a fire. A shovel, many knives, many swards, many sharp edged metal discs, balls with spikes all over them. And a giant bed…with spikes.

The there was a very strange object. It was scary. But it was odd. There were two little door sized planks of… material connected with another board and some gears at the bottom. Each of the three planks were covered in spikes of course. But in the middle was a seat looking thing. The seat thing was metal, and it came up out of the bottom plank. The seat type thingy was flat. Out of the flat plank rose a thing piece of metal, like a pole almost. But much, much shorter than a pole. And out of that pole looking piece were two curved pieces of metal.

It looked like the chair thingy in the middle of all those spikes wanted to give you a hug.

_Weird._ Skipper thought. He had never seen anything like it in his entire, short life. It was just abnormal. _This place_ was abnormal. He didn't know what it was. And he was afraid to find out.

He stood in the middle of the room. Waiting. Shaking. Scared of what might walk through the door. He was staring at it. Standing right next to the metal surface that he was so rudely thrown onto.

He wanted the person who was in charge to stop making him wait. It made him think. Think about what they wanted to do with him.

He had come up with many different ways that things would happen.

Most of them ending with him crying in a corner. He didn't want to think.

He thought about how much pain the nasty, scary objects would give him. How many times would he be hit with them? Would they do what they did to his parents? Minus the death?

He didn't want them to be dead. He wanted them to be on their way to rescue him. Then they would all return to their _unburned_ house. And they would live happily ever after. That's what he wanted to happen.

But that's not what happened.

He sat there for at least ten more minutes before the evil man came back.

Skipper froze. It would happen now. It would all happen now. The pain would begin. What ever torture was, it would also begin. The fear would get worse. Many, many times worse. His longing for his old life would become very great. His heartache…it would grow to be so immense. So very immense. And the tears, they would flow endlessly. And then the wish. The three wished.

One…for his parents to be alive.

Two… for the pain to go away.

Three… Death.

Death was whet he wanted. He had no purpose anymore. He was alone, in pain, and knew that he would die here. What was there to live for?

Just Pain, heartache, and longing. Nothing worth living for. He wished he would just die. No cause, no pain. Just close his eyes…and never open them again.

_**Depression. Not a very good mind set.**_

_**Death. Not a good thought.**_

_**Pain. A bad feeling.**_

_**Heartache. What causes it all.**_

_**Murderers. What causes heartache.**_

_**All of the abuse. Misery.**_


	6. a pain break

For the first time in his entire life. He woke up then. Gasping for breath. He felt more out of breath than he had ever felt before. He was shaking too. Like he was still the kid who feared the man with the evil grin. And deep down, he still was.

He woke up in the middle of the dream. He was glad but confused at the same time. If he randomly woke up in the middle of the nightmare, would he randomly fall back into it? If so when? And where?

Still gasping for breath he got up and jumped out of his bunk. _Wait…_ He thought. He turned around to find it was true. He was back at the habitat. But how? He froze. _They brought me back._ Now he knew. Julian probably told them everything. When they woke up, he would have to make an excuse. But what would be good enough? He had to come up with a very good explanation to why he just… passed out. He never did that. The nightmare usually attacked him when he went to bed.

He became very nervous. For a good reason too. Everyone was there. That meant everyone knew. How was he going to explain the lie to everyone without messing it up at least once? No one was supposed to know he had this nightmare. He wasn't supposed to randomly pass out. None of this was supposed to happen. This was supposed to be his secret. No one was supposed to know. Not even Manfredi and Johnson knew. And they were closer to him than the guys were. Though the guys were slowly becoming closer.

And he _still_ couldn't stop gasping for breath. He needed to get out. So they wouldn't wake up. He needed to think before he was assaulted with questions. He needed to run away. But he realized that if he ran away, he would just leave the zoo more confused than if he stayed. And if stayed, he would be assaulted by questions. Ones that he didn't want to answer. Ones that would fill his eyes with tears. Ones that would come, one right after another until…until he was forced to run away. Run away and think. Think for a long time before he returned. Think about how to tell them, and if to tell them. And remember. Remember the things he desperately wanted to forget. And cry. Cry because he still wasn't over the death of his parents, or the pain that he endured in the months that followed, or how he still heard their voices, telling him that everything was going to be ok.

But they were wrong. Nothing was ever ok after they died. Nothing would ever be ok ever again. Nothing. Everything would always have a dent. They were wrong. Nothing would ever be ok for him ever again. And he knew they knew that. He knew they only told him that because they wanted to think everything _would_ be ok. But he knew. And it killed him to know. Everyday had passed with fake smiles and laughs. The love was real. But that was the only thing that was real. His heart. And he loved his friends. He would die for them. And, he knew they would do the same for him.

So why couldn't he tell them? Why was he so afraid to tell them? Why was he so afraid of the Questions that would fill his eyes to the brim with tears? Why didn't he trust that when they saw the water in his eyes, they would stop? Why didn't he want to tell them? Why?

He wanted to tell them, and didn't want to tell then at the same time. He wanted them to know the truth. But he was afraid of what they would do with it. How they would react to it. He didn't want things to change. All he wanted was for the nightmare to go away. For that segment of his childhood to leave him alone. To stop playing like a horror movie over and over again. For the nightmare to stop chaining him down. Making him watch. Making him relive the nightmare. Relive the pain. That's all he wanted. And he knew that would never happen. Unless. Unless he told them. Unless he told them about everything. The pain, the torture. The devastation.

Because everything. All of it…shaped who he was. He was called a paranoid freak. Psychotic. And it was because he was afraid. Afraid of those people. Scared from what they did to him. He carried the scar his entire life. It marked him forever.

And now…he just wanted it to go away. He wanted the scar to heal. To not be afraid anymore. But he knew that that wasn't going to happen either.

He went to the clock tower. It was a good place to think. He knew he would have to tell them sometime. They would have to find out eventually. It was inevitable. He was going to have to tell them. But he didn't want to. He wanted to keep it to himself. Even if it might help them understand him more. He didn't want to tell them. To scare them. To confuse them. The people were confused when he didn't growl at them. All the others eventually did. And he survived longer than they did. Even the adults. He was the boy that lived. And he had his parents to blame for that. They had told him that they kept him from dieing. And at times he hated them for it. But during times when he was happy. Truly happy. He had them to thank. For letting him live. Because if he had died there….he would've forgotten what it felt like to be loved. To know that someone cared. He would've never seen the sun. The light at the end of his very dark tunnel. He would've never met Manfredi and Johnson, and through them, Kowalski, Rico, and Private. He liked them. They were his family. They had been with him through thick and thin. All of them.

And every time he had the nightmare. He would have to hide its effects. How sad it made him feel. How sad and angry and alone, he felt sometimes. He would have to hide how heavy it was on him. How he had the dieing need to tell someone. But couldn't. And he had convinced himself that he never would. Even if it was inevitable. He would never tell the whole story. Not they way he saw it. Because he saw every detail. The smooth soft tone in his mother's voice as she told him to sleep. The strong protection of his father. How he lost them. The glint of blood on the spears as they jutted out of his parents chests. The feel of his silent tears as the raced down his feathers. The evil man, with the evil grin. The weapons, the torture devices. The pain. The chains that were stamped through his flippers. The man with no feeling that came and got him every day. For more pain. For more torture. For more of his confidence to be taken away. The wish that ran around his mind every night. The death wish. The feeling of total and complete hopelessness. The fear. The jagged walls that he was carried through. The sharp points of spikes. The sound of the whip on his back. The pain. He remembered that with the most detail. The pain, and its deliverers. And the sound of locking doors and locking chains, to remind him… he was never getting out. To remind him, that this was his life now. A life of pain. And he remembered them. His saviors. He remembered them. And he would never be able to thank them enough. But every time he though of them. Though of how they saved him. He thought about all of the torture and pain and hopelessness and helplessness, that came before it. The devastation. The loss. He remembered how late they seemed to be. He remembered though. And he was grateful. He was free from the chains of pain.

Physical pain anyway. Every detail was still burned into his mind.

He wasn't going to tell them.

He was going back to sleep. To get it over with. To get all of the pain over with.

Because, even though it was a dream. A wicked nightmare. A fragment of his past.

He felt the pain. It was as fresh and in his mind now as it was back then. And even though he was sleeping. He could feel the feathers being ripped off. The chains that were punched through his feathers. He still felt the shocks of pain that ricocheted (pronounced rick-ah-shay-ed) through his entire body.

So he went back to the habitat. He nervously crawled back into his bunk. And there he fell back into the nightmare. The nightmare that has harassed him for his entire life.


	7. the voice of an angel

Skipper sat there shaking, scared to death, wanting to die, while the evil man walked up to him. He stared down at Skipper. Skipper didn't dare look up. He didn't want to look the man in the eye. He didn't need any more fear. Or pain.

He bent down and made Skipper look at him. Grasping his beak with tremendous force. It hurt. Like someone pull a tooth out. Skipper didn't know that you could feel your beak. It was just there. Like teeth.

Skipper, vibrating, looked into the eye of the man. The man that could very well be a spawn of the devil. But that just made things worse. He looked at the man sand only saw pure hatred in his eyes. The man had no feeling. He had no heart. He would do what he wanted to with Skipper and not care at all. .

It was then that Skipper realized the one thing that he had feared sense he arrived in this horrid place. This man was going to use him as his personal pain puppet. Skipper was this mans toy. And the game was about to begin.

"Now you understand don't you boy?" The man asked. He still sounded terrifyingly evil, and still had a tight grasp on Skippers beak. "You aren't going anywhere."

Then he pulled out a metal pad with five buttons on it and pushed one. He let go of Skipper beak and stood up.

Skipper didn't know what had just happened. But he didn't want to run. He did but something told him not to. Something told him that if he ran he would get hurt. And he couldn't take anymore pain. He just couldn't take it. He didn't want to be here. But he didn't want to go home either. Because…he didn't have a home anymore. Home is where there are people who love you. And he was alone now. But he would rather starve to death than be here. The worst part was knowing that he _was_ here. And he might never see the sunlight again.

"Speak!" the man shouted.

Skipper nearly jumped out of his skin. The man had scared him so badly. But if the man commanded him to speak than he must've been able to talk. So he mustered up all the courage he had left.

"W-w-w-w-w-w-why a-a-ar-ar-are y-y-you d-d-doing th-th-this?" he asked fearfully. He wanted to leave. But more so he wanted to know why these people existed.

The evil man laughed. "Why am I doing this?" He laughed. "Because I like watching helpless, useless brats like you suffer." He growled.

"What are you going to do to me?" Skipper asked terrified. He didn't want anymore pain. He hoped for no more pain. He hoped the evil man would have a short change of heart and let him go.

More wishes unfulfilled. More hopes wasted.

"See all these toys? Well you're going to feel the wrath of each and every one." The evil man hissed.

Skipper became very afraid. Very terrified. Very scared. "Please don't do that mister!" He pleaded. His breathing became more rapid. He could feel himself vibrating from fear.

The evil man laughed again. "You have no say in this boy. You're my toy now. And I'll do what ever I want to you."

Skipper started crying. He didn't care if his home was burned to the ground. He didn't care if his family was dead. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be surrounded by snow again. He wanted to be surrounded by the other penguins.

No. he did care if his family was dead. He wanted to be with them. He didn't want anymore pain he didn't want to feel so lonely and sad. He didn't want to cry anymore.

But he didn't hope. He didn't wish. Because as he stood there crying like the child he was. He realized that this man was going to hurt him. This man was going to force tears to flow endlessly from his eyes. This man was going to force his feathers to fall and blood to fall. He realized that the excruciating pain the fill his flippers would soon be filling his entire body. He realized that he would never see snow again. He would never see the sun again. He would only see the sparkling points of the pain bringers. He realized that he would only see the gray color of the walls around him. The black handles of the weapons that would be used to hurt him. And the crimson red blood that would flow from his body as those weapons carved into his body. He knew then. This man was going to hurt him. And he would hurt him more and more until …he died.

Skipper knew then. He was going to die here.

Then the evil man pulled out the metal pad again and push a different button. Immediately Skippers sobbing became mute.

But Skipper could still feel the sting in his flippers. He could still feel the soreness in his throat from crying. And the many knots in his stomach from fear and longing and sadness. He could still feel how hopeless everything was.

He could still feel the evil man lift him up and slam him onto the metal table. He could still feel the pain of the chains sliding back through his flipper. He could still feel the locks around his feet. He could still feel the tears that were already flowing endlessly down his cheeks. He could still feel their warmth though.

He could feel it.

And even though he was scared. Even though he was in so much pain. Even though he felt alone and hopeless. Even though he could feel the evil mans deadly gaze. He could feel their warmth. He could feel the warmth that his mother gave him when she held him at night. He could feel the warmth that his father's eyes held. He could feel the warmth that their love filled him with.

So even though he was filling with pain ad fear and sadness and hopelessness, he could feel the warmth of their hugs and their eyes and their love. He could feel them. And he could feel their spirits crying as they watched. For they could do nothing. And that was the first time he heard it.

He heard his mother's voice. He didn't know if it was of his own mind or real. But it told him

_They're coming. Someone is coming to save you, baby. Someone is coming to save you._

It was his mother. It had to be. It sounded as she did. It was her gentle voice that he heard. But he still didn't know. He wanted to hear her voice again. Because it had calmed him. It had calmed the soreness in his throat. And the many knots in his stomach.

Until something hit his stomach. Until a shockwave of extreme pain shot through his whole front side. Then the warmth he had gotten from his mothers voice turned cold. And everything turned back to fear.

He wanted her voice to come back.

He wanted her to come back.

He wanted them to come back.

And even though he was grown now. During this nightmare segment of his past.

He still wanted them to come back. He still missed them.


	8. a taste of torture

Skipper was locked in. there was no escape. There was only the pain. The pain the kept hitting his stomach. The pain of the evil man's toys. The pain of the evil mans little round ball with spikes. The evil man had a little round, spiked ball that was attached to a metal stick by a chain.

The evil man kept slamming the little spiked ball into Skippers stomach. Skipper tried to Scream. He tried with all his might. But he was muted. The air came out. The tears rolled out. The blood poured from his body. But no one could hear him scream. No one would as long as he was muted. He would have to lay there and endure this pain. More pain than he had ever felt. He would have to lay there. And wish. He would make wishes that would never come true, and hope with hope that wasn't there. He was a child. But he wasn't stupid. He knew now. The voice he had heard was fake. It was all in his head. He was going to die here. There was no, savior for him. There was no white knight that was going to ride in on his noble stead and save the day. There was nothing but the pain. He wasn't stupid. He knew.

And all the while. With every hit. The evil man laughed. He laughed with such a heartless laugh. He was happy with the pain and misery that was filling Skipper. He was having fun with Skippers pain. Having fun making him hurt. Laughing at the crimson red blood that was flowing steadily out of his stomach now.

And then it stopped. Skipper didn't stop crying. The pain that wracked his stomach didn't stop bouncing through his body. The blood didn't stop running down his sides and leaking underneath him. The tears didn't stop running down his cheeks. And the longing to hear his mothers' sweet, soft voice didn't go away. The shockwaves went away, though the pain was still there.

Nothing was hitting him anymore. The evil man had stopped hitting him. After a few seconds he placed his flipper on Skippers open wound and pushed down.

Skipper struggled as if it would help him. It only made things worse. The man's hand caused extreme pain. Almost more than metal spiked ball did. He screamed silently over and over again. He wished and hoped even though he knew nothing would help. It stung and pulsed worse than the blade of a knife being driven into his body. It pules faster than a racing heart, sending pain pulsating through his entire body with every beat. And the man with the evil grin laughed.

And then he heard himself. The evil man must've pressed a button on the metal pad, because he heard his own scream. His own blood curdling scream of pain.

The evil man leaned over and hissed into Skippers ear, "This is torture boy. And it'll get worse before you know it." Then he pushed his hand down harder, making skippers wound sting more, making the wound pulse even faster sending even more immense waves of pain throughout his entire body. And the evil man laughed again.

Skipper screamed and screamed. Even when his lungs hurt. Even after his throat started to hurt. After his head started pulsing, and his body went entirely numb.

And then the words repeated over and over in his hind. Ran in and out every corner, every crevice, to every edge of his thoughts. _We will always be with you. We will always be with you. We will always be with you. Always. Always._ But where were they now? They were dead, gone. And they weren't there with him. They weren't going through this. He was. He was alone and scared and in pain. And where were they? They were up in the sky watching. Just watching and doing nothing. They could do nothing. Nothing! They weren't brining anyone to him. They couldn't. They were just sky walkers now. Sky walkers. Inhabitants of the sky.

But they were watching. And they weren't looking away. Because all they could do was watch. Watch and linger. They weren't sky walkers. No, not yet. A spirit only became a sky walker when they had no reason to stay chained to the earth. And he was their chain. _They are bringing someone. _Skipper thought as he screamed and cried. _They're telling someone to come this way. And they're right here. They _are_ with me. They promised they'd always be. If you are here, can I go to sleep now Mama? I can wake up tomorrow. I just want to go to sleep now. I can't be brave like you want me to be Mama. I'm sorry._

He wasn't screaming anymore. He felt numb. He couldn't feel the pain. But he could at the same time. No new pain was coming in. but the old pain from minutes before was still bouncing around in his body.

And then he heard it. He wasn't crazy. Yet. His mind wasn't playing tricks on him. He heard it.

_You are brave, Skipper. Don't ever tell yourself otherwise. There is no reason to be sorry. It is us who need to be sorry. We cannot be there to protect you. Some is coming. To do what we no longer can. But now you must rest. And fall into a world of kindness and pleasure. We love you. Hush little one, close your eyes. Sleep in peace, until you rise. Though while you sleep, we are apart. Your Mama loves you with all her heart._

Skipper closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. Almost immediately. The rhyme played once more in his head. _Hush little one, close your eyes. Sleep in peace, until you rise. Though while you sleep, we are apart. Your Mama love's you with all her heart._ Then he fell asleep.

_**I got that last part, the rhyme, from Despicable Me. It was the ending to the bedtime story **__**Three sleepy Kittens.**__ I__** thought it would fit nicely here. **_


	9. waking up

That's the way it was for three years. After six weeks he was given two weeks to heal before they started again. Every week was something different. Cuts by knives, wiping's, being pummeled by some instrument of torture. Being carried through the stone cold, cave like hallways. The holes in the tips of his flippers had gone numb after the first year. After the second year he stopped hearing voices. Two months later he no longer believed in anything they ever said. It was all in his head. No one knew about this place. He was going to die here. No one was ever going to come to his rescue.

But he wasn't dying. He didn't feel himself getting weaker. He felt the same way he had when he entered this place. The only difference between then and now was that now, he didn't cry as much. He didn't feel anything anymore. He wasn't angry, or sad, or depressed. He understood that wishing and praying would do nothing for him. He was hopeless. He was an empty case. His heart had shriveled up and died. He could feel nothing. Nothing anyone ever said meant anything to him.

So he focused on what things looked like and not what they did. He already knew what they did, and how much they hurt. He already knew that. Now he wanted to know why they hurt so much. How sharp objects had to be to cause so much pain. What the shapes of every instrument was. What color the cave walls were. What noise each lock made when it was locked and unlocked.

In doing so he improved his eyesight and hearing without even meaning too. He could see farther back down the cave halls and hear the cries of others. There were others there. Others who were still crying from pain. He didn't hear them for long though. One by one the cries ceased to exist. And it took him a few weeks to figure out why. The children were dying. One by one they ceased to exist…until he was the only one left.

But he didn't die. And it seemed that after all the rest were gone the pain intensified. It was as if they were trying to kill him. But they couldn't. He just wouldn't die.

He really wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. No one would miss him. No one knew about him. He was a nobody, so why shouldn't he die? But he was curious. Why were people like this? How did they get pleasure out of beating people to death? He didn't understand. He never understood why those people were. Why they were alive. He never really understood how they thought. How they justified their actions. But he really didn't care. He was just curious.

He didn't have much time to be curious either. After all the others died he was transferred to someplace else. And the very day they were going to kill him, he was rescued.

He was in a dark room, but he wasn't chained up. There were two adults in the very same room. They seemed to be a bit confused by Skipper's lack of emotion. He knew he was going to die. He would be dead in a few hours but that was okay. Because then he would be with his parents. Because he still missed them. If he ever felt anything in those days it was the love he still had for his parents. He would always love them. Because he knew that if they could've they would've saved him long ago. None of this was their fault.

He had never blamed them. He didn't blame the men who killed his parents, or man who carried him back and forth through the caves, or the other men he occasionally saw walking in those caves. The only one he ever blamed for everything that happened since the death of his parents, was the man with the evil grin. He ordered the men to kill his parents, he told the man to retrieve and return him. The man with the evil grin was to blame for everything.

But he wasn't angry at the man with the evil grin. He wasn't angry at all. He was looking forward to dying. To everything being over. To going to sleep and never waking up, because he had always liked his dreams. They were always peaceful. They were always without pain. Always where he wanted to be.

He closed his eyes and relaxed. He was going to die today. He would finally escape from the world. Like he always wanted to.

Something started clanking down the hallway. It sounded like metal hitting up against the walls. Then shouts rang through the hallway. Shouts of pain.

Skipper looked at the door. What was going on now?

The clanking of swards rang through the hallways along with the shouts for what seemed like hours. Skipper cursed whatever was making the noise. It was delaying his death.

The door suddenly crashed open and the man with the evil grin fell to the floor.

Skipper stared at him for a few minutes…he was dead. The man with the evil grin was dead. He would no longer hurt anyone. No more would he beat people to death. He would never kill anyone ever again.

Skipper stopped hearing everything. All the clinks and screams faded into the background. Became white noise. The two men who were in the room jumped up and ran away. Skipper couldn't move. He sat, frozen, staring at the man with the evil grin. The man that was supposed to kill him today.

He wasn't going to die.

Two men entered the room, blood and dark brown mud stained their feathers. They wore helmets, shoulder pads, and chest plates. On their backs were swards. One of them had a back pack.

Still Skipper didn't move, but stare. He didn't understand what was happening.

One of them walked over and picked him up. "Come on little guy," He said gently, "Let's get you all taken care of."

Skipper fell asleep in the man's arms. The voices. They weren't all in his head. They were real. And they were right. He stayed with those men until the day they died. They took care of him, taught him how to move on. They taught him how to feel emotions again. For better or worse.

And that's when the nightmare ended.

Skipper woke up gasping for breath. Still shaking he got out of his bunk and walked over to the table. He still didn't know why it came so suddenly. He usually knew when it was going to come. He didn't understand.

"Looks whose finally up," A voice said behind him.

Je spun around and stared at Marlene.

"So what was the nightmare you've been having for the past three days?" She asked curiously as she walked up to him.

Skipper didn't move, he just stared at her. Three days?

_**Thank you Nz person for reminding me I had this story. **_

_**If you are currently disappointed don't be. This isn't the end of the story.**_


	10. line of unorganized thoughts

_**Sorry I haven't updated in like forever! I had writers block and when that writer's block went away I was grounded! No computer for a month! Anyways here is the next chapter u have been waiting for.**_

Skipper was still traumatized hours after he awoke. He hadn't spoken to anyone. He couldn't speak; he didn't know what to say. What was he supposed to say? He had a nightmare? That was obvious. Everyone knew he had a nightmare, but not what that nightmare was. They didn't know that the nightmare was truly a nightmare, or how much it scared him, or how badly it scarred him. He didn't want them to know. It was his secret. It was one part of him he'd never share. Nor did he want to share it. None of them cold possible understand what it meant to him. They would all think he was crazy, and he knew they would because they had always thought he was insane. Psychotic was perhaps the correct word.

He thought it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it. He kept his mouth shut, staring into his cup, yet not moving to drink any of the coffee. It seemed unappetizing to him. Everything did. He wasn't hungry; he didn't feel very thirsty either. But he maintained his grip on the cup as if it was his only protection against the world. As if it alone could protect him from some horrible fate. And he knew that some horrible fate was to come. He could feel it. However he had no clue as to what it was. In his shaken state, it traumatized him even more to know that something terrible was going to happen, for he still had his nightmare fresh in his head.

And he was still untouchable. No one dared to come near him. The last person who tried got kicked into the nearest wall. He still felt sorry for Kowalski. That looked like it hurt. Private was starting to linger to close for comfort now, but Skipper tried to resist the dying urge to push him away. He was speaking as he inched forward, but Skipper couldn't hear him. He saw that Private was saying something, and from the look on his face Skipper guessed it was something sincere. Something meant to calm him down. His sudden action towards Kowalski being to close startled everyone. Plus the fact that Kowalski still hadn't gotten up yet, which didn't help any.

Private continued to inch forward and as he did Skippers foot began to twitch. He dared not to move his hands from the cup he was holding, for while he knew the wounds were physically gone, he was still afraid that if he moved them they would burst into pain. He really would prefer not to be in any pain at any point in time today. The pain from his past rang through his body as if every wound he had suffered was given to him yesterday. He remembered every cut, every blow, every ounce of pain so vividly. All he wanted to do was forget it all.

He moved himself backwards, not moving his gaze or posture, only his position in the room. He hoped Private would get the message because he didn't want to harm him. He knew Private was just trying to help but he didn't want the help. Or perhaps it was just his instinct not to want help. His mind felt as if a herd of elephants had recently trampled over it. As if there was some unknown pressure building to a point where it must explode. He wanted to tell someone yet he couldn't. And he wasn't going to.

Skipper suddenly realized why he couldn't hear anyone. He didn't want to. Hearing others would only prove distracting to his confusing confliction of thoughts and realties and not help at all. Closing off his ears to the outside let him focus on his thoughts while still observing the actions of those around him. He had often found it a useful skill to be able to drown out all outside noise with his own thoughts. He didn't quite remember how he acquired the skill or under what circumstances he had acquired it. With his mind still fiercely focused on his nightmare he didn't see remembering anything of utter unimportance or otherwise possible. But it wasn't the nightmare that had taken all of that focus. What his mind seemed to be focusing on was a reoccurrence of the events that had transpired during his imprisonment. Maybe it wasn't even that. There was something in his mind that always bothered him after he had this nightmare.

What if there was a greater power than they had taken out that day? What if the man who was supposed to kill him that day was answering to someone else? Then someone was still out there torturing and killing innocent children. And then another horrifyingly confusing question came racing through his mind. What would cause someone to do that to a child? What kind of sick pleasure did he get out of it? What was the point? Children are innocent until they are young adults. Then they are to be held accountable for their mistakes. But what would a grown man have against children? What was wrong with the wiring of their brains that made it ok? How did they justify doing what they did? How did they sleep at night knowing that some ones child, some ones baby, died at their hands? How could people be so cruel?

Skipper had never understood the minds of evils doers or their counterparts. He never fully understood why they did the things they did. He understood some, like people with grudges or those who had been abandoned or abused as children. Very few were as lucky as he was. Most people who are abused for long periods of time become soulless and determined for revenge. But there were some, very few but still some, who could walk away determined to put those actions to a stop. To save others from falling to the same fate. Become the hero instead of the villain some might say. Others walk away traumatized for the remainder of their lives. Being neither good nor bad, like a puppy kicked one too many times by his owner. Left to be terrified of the world and all who live in it. All who dwell in the shadows. He held sympathy for those individuals, mostly because he realized how close he came to becoming one of them.

He didn't quite understand himself fully either. He never figured out why he was able to survive when all other children had died. Why he had become so empty instead of terrified. He didn't know why his body was bent on surviving all that time without giving any hint at any time that it was close to dying or ever would be. It was as if his body knew what his mind could not sense. As if it knew that someone was going to eventually come to the rescue.

He moved himself backwards again. This time hitting the wall behind him. He did his best to push all of his confusion, every bit of unanswerable questions and conflicted thoughts and fears, and let the noises around him flood his ears. Every click, clank, and clutter fill his mind. Ever whisper of sound coming to him so clearly, as if it ran through an amplifier.

"Private I don't think he wants you to get so close to him," Marlene stated cautiously. "Do you really want to end up like Kowalski?"

"I'd ease off a bit if I were you old chap," Mason added, "Kowalski hasn't gotten up yet and Skipper doesn't look like he's eased up at all."

"Well he's not going to if we just let him sit there now is he?" Private replied indifferently.

"Maybe not but I'd let him sit for a little while longer," Marlene answered calmly.

_Yes,_ Skipper thought, _just let me sit for a little while longer. I don't want to hurt you Private, I truly don't._


	11. still calming down

Marlene was able to make Private back down after a few minutes of reasoning. A few minutes later Kowalski shook himself awake and sat up, rubbing the part of his head that he collided with the wall. And then they were all staring at him, confused and sympathetic. Their eyes showing fear for what he was thinking, their bodies unmoving as if they were too afraid to move, to be the next Kowalski. They didn't speak either. Their entire beings seemed to hold two things, fear, and sympathy.

But that was only in Skippers eyes. What he saw, not necessarily what was real. His body still tense with traumatized fear and his mind still racing, he looked around the room. His eyes darting from the ceiling to the walls to the table and then to the chairs. Darting to the floor and the T.V. to the window to the door, and then finally to the faces of everyone who was staring at him. Darting from one person to the next he took in everything he possible could, telling himself all the while that the nightmare was over and would not repeat itself. There were people here that would see to it.

He still couldn't understand why it had happened when it did. Why he was assaulted by the nightmare while he was still awake and why he had been asleep for three days. It perplexed him and only added to the confusion that was already paralyzing his mind. He couldn't kick himself back into gear. He couldn't shake himself off and get over it like he had done so easily in the past. Why? Why was it so difficult this time?

Maybe he needed someone to help him. Someone to snap him out of it. But who could possibly be able to that? Kowalski couldn't, Private couldn't. Maybe…

The hatch suddenly popped open and Julian flung himself down into the penguins' home.

Skipper immediately jumped up, dropped him coffee cup, and got into his fighting stanch. His muscles vibrated, his heart pounded in his chest and ears, his breathing was very uneven, and his eyes focused on the ring-tailed lemur so was staring back at him with a very relaxed, bored expression.

Julian raised an eyebrow at Skipper before smiling. "I heard you had awoken from your scary dreaming, penguin, and came over as fast as my kingly feet would take me- I am very speedy you know, like a cheetah."

Skipper stared at Julian wildly. He blinked and shook his head, his breathing calming down to almost normal intervals and his muscles becoming still, not close to being relaxed though. "What?" he asked severely confused. His mind was still racing. He was nowhere near calming down. He didn't understand Julian at all. How he could just pop up when you least expected him to. He never understood the Ringtail's ignorance either. However Julian was just what Skipper needed.

"Yes," Julian replied, "I have come to shoo the evil scary spirits who gived to you the scary dreams and held you locked in their scary world for three days."

"What?" Skipper still had no clue what Julian was talking about. He relaxed his position and stared at him.

Julian stared into Skippers wildly confused eyes. "I have come to your rescue." He moved over to Skipper and put one of his arms on skippers shoulder. "To make the evil spirits go away." He pushed himself away and walked back towards the hatch. "To rescue you silly penguin." He went back to Skipper and leaned on him to get closer to the penguins ear. "To make the badies go away you know, so they don't disturb anyone else, especially the royal king," he whispered.

Skipper pushed Julian off of him and shook his head. HE took a deep breath and sighed. "Julian, there are no such thing as evil spirits."

"You are crazy Penguin!" Julian retorted.

"Spirits are made up figments of imagination Julian," Kowalski chimed in.

"Fine! I will take my talent of spirit shooing elsewhere!" Julian shouted and stormed out.

They all watched him go. Skipper picked up his coffee cup and stared at the brown puddle on the floor. He was feeling a little better now. Calmer, less traumatized and paranoid. He took a deep breath and placed the coffee cup on the table before looking up at Kowalski. "Are you ok?" he asked, feeling guilty for violently kicking Kowalski into a wall.

Kowalski smiled. "Perfect fine Skipper."

"Are you ok?" Private asked, stepping forward.

Skipper stared at Private for a few seconds before coming up with an answer. "I'm not sure," He replied thinking. He didn't know if he was or not. He felt calm, but he didn't know if that meant he was ok, or if it was the calm before the storm type of feeling. "I think I am." He turned his gaze to the ground. He wanted to tell them about his nightmare, but it was too sensitive a topic for him right now. Maybe later. Maybe.

Marlene walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. When their eyes met she asked softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," He sighed. He did want to talk about it. Not right now though. Not right now.


	12. past the brink

It turned out his traumatized state returned once night fell and he refused to sleep in fear of falling back into his nightmare. He didn't really need to sleep though, because the feelings and sounds of his torture in the years of his captivity flooded his mind without the help of dreadful slumber. All the fears he had all those years ago flooded his heart and made it impossible to think straight. His heart hadn't slowed for even a second after everyone went to bed. He felt alone and rejected by the realization that no one really knew what he was going through. He didn't even know what he was going through. Why was he so traumatized this time? He still couldn't figure it out, and it bothered him.

He was sitting in the sewers below Rockefeller Center trying to take in the sounds of rushing sewage and dripping water without thinking about anything. He was having a very difficult time with this and decided to give up and let his mind wander a few hours ago.

His mind had taken a critical hit and was seemingly failing to recover. His thoughts were scattered and unorganized jumping from one topic to the next, arguing with itself, and ultimately making him a stereotypical mess of trauma and insanity, both of which mixed together to form a very concerning mind frame. Lost, confused, and utterly un-useful, along with fits of paranoia and a new symptom of socially handicapped topped off with a nasty case of fear of everything. This line of mental corruption, added to the hallucinations he'd been having, made Skipper increasingly vulnerable and put him well past the brink of sanity.

So as he sat there, leaning against the wall thinking about anything and everything while his mind brought images of his dreadful nightmare into reality, the hours of night slowly trickled away and dawn came and passed and the clock struck seven a.m.

And it had all started with rain, his mind that is. The slow dripping sound of water had reminded him of rain, this was when it was just starting and only the premature stage of rain also known as drizzle. He distinctly remembered sitting in his cell, chained to the stone table as his body doggedly tried to heal itself, listening very carefully to the sound of rain. It had surprised him at first because he hadn't heard it before. To hear the sound of rain in his little cell amazed him and filled his mind with curiosity. If he hadn't heard the rain in the full year he'd been in this dastardly place, then why could he hear it now? Of course back then he had no clue that he had been slowly honing and perfecting his hearing. As a child he just assumed everything was getting louder. Lying on that table unable to move he wondered how hard it had to be raining to make the rain loud enough for him to hear it down in his cell. And then he had wondered why it never rained so hard before. This of course led Skipper to dig deeper into the topic of rain.

He sat with his back against the wall of the sewer wondering why each rain storm was different and why. He wondered why sometimes it rained for a whole week and why it sometimes only rained for an hour. Had Julian been right all along? Were there really 'Sky spirits' that controlled almost everything about life? If so how did they come into existence? Were they once beings on earth just like he was? If they were how did they become sky spirits and what made them so different from everyone else? Or was everyone who passed on turned into sky spirits forever to guide and destroy the world with forces of scientific nature?

Nature, a force to be reckoned with. Tsunamis and hurricanes, tornadoes and rain storms, even volcanoes and earthquakes. All killers of animals and people alike and all caused by Mother Nature. Mother nature. Why was it called that? Why not father nature? What was the difference? Why couldn't it just be called nature? Things would b easier that way. Nature was both good and bad after all. Maybe that's why it was called Mother Nature; because women, especially mothers, could be both loving and quite scary. Women in general could be both angels and devils, that's why they're so dangerous. They reel you in with promises of cookies and warmth and then they kill you. He really didn't trust women; they were very secretive creatures, like snakes.

Skipper wasn't really a fan of snakes either; they were sneaky and felt weird to the touch. Plus the fact that he'd nearly been eaten by a snake once. Savio, yet another evil that had touched his life, like the man with the evil grin.

The image of the man flashed before his eyes sending him into a fit of uncontrolled breathing while the ground began to spin wildly below his body. That man was a symbol of everything bad that happened when Skipper was young. The man terrified him in the worst of ways and brought with him a wave of memories affiliated with the events that occurred by his hand. Where it all started of course was with the melting of his peaceful little town and the murder of his parents. The blood draining from the holes in their bodies was a picture he'd never forget. It was ruby red, as most blood was now that he thought about it, and it didn't rush out or squirt like a fountain of blood, but it more or less drizzled out. It formed beads of dark red on their chests before running down their sides and pooling beneath their bodies. After that it soaked into the snow and ice and remained there for a while. Or so Skipper speculated. But the blood of his parents had been different from his own; the sight of it had been less painful and more shocking than anything else. He just thought of that shock as delayed pain that would really hit him later on.

But at the moment he was caught in a realm of fear that shot through his veins like poison and shoved terror into his mind in such a way that it remained there far after the image had dissipated and fell back to the near depths of his failing mind. His lungs refused to work right and the ground refused to stand still so he was forced to sit there grasping the rough ground and gasping for air like he'd been recently strangled. He had been strangled, metaphorically of course, by the memories and trauma of his own mind. He was in a way torturing himself, yet he couldn't help it. If he had the choice he'd forget anything even happened in a heartbeat, but something was holding onto the memory and wouldn't let go.

The image of torture devices and blood running down the smooth rows of his feathers danced around his vision. He darted his eyes from the ceiling to the floor whipping his head from left to right wildly trying to rid himself of the taunting pictures but he failed and ultimately fell deeper into his terrified state, gasping even harder and trying uselessly to grab the ungrabable ground as his heart rate sped to unbelievable speeds and beat so unbelievably hard that each _thump_ pounded in his skull like bombs going off a million times a second.

His ears were filled with the sound of screams and medieval laughter while the images of torture and blood still danced around his head. The agony of knives and other devices of pain hit every inch on his body at approximately the same time sending his body into a paralyzed state where he couldn't move at all but could feel every blow and cut while watching it happen and listening to the laughter and screaming that came as a consequence. There was also the sight of blood that fell alongside the images of knives cutting into flesh and the processes of breaking bones.

All this time Skipper was begging it to stop. The images and the sounds and the feelings were extremely agonizing and completely terrifying and all he wanted was for them to go away. But they didn't. A sharp, burning pain erupted on his arm, a knife slid over the dark feathers forcing blood to pool at the site of the wound until it rose and trickled down his arm dripping ruby drops to the ground in a rhythmic pattern. Then an impact hit his chest, definitely breaking a few ribs as a ball and chain swung back and forth before his eyes eventually flying back into his chest to cause more damage and of course, more pain. He couldn't breathe suddenly, no doubt a consequence of the conflict with the ball and chain, his eyes wild and desperate as he looked around for someone to help him.

The sewers had disappeared and while deep down he knew he was still there sitting below Rockefeller Center, he could only see the bleak, unlit tunnels of underground torture headquarters of the man with the evil grin.

A tube was violently shoved down his throat and bars were forced through his flippers as pain erupted in both areas. He was able to gasp for breath again, however his breathing was even more irregular and hypervental than it was before. Not only that, but he began to gag, which only lead to less and less air actually reaching his lungs.

The sound of a whip slashed loudly through the air before the pain hit his back. It burned like hot metal and stung worse than anything he'd felt before. More cracks filled the air as the image of the man with the evil grin wielding a whip played in his mind. More sharp pains erupted on his back, burning like metal and stinging terribly. Another knife slid cross his feathered flesh, this time across his stomach. It was a long, deep cut, causing the dark red liquid to form rivers flowing wildly down to the ground where they made a nice little pool of dark red blood.

And then it stopped. The sewers came into view and gradually replaced the weapons of torture and rivers of blood, the sounds of screams and laughter became the flow and drip of filth, and the pains of torture vanished. The terror remained, and Skipper felt an overwhelming sense of paranoia.

It came after the fit of terror and remembrance, while he was very slowly calming himself. He realized that he could enter a realm of pain at any moment from the hands of anyone in the world, and at that moment it seemed that everyone was out to get him. A bat flew through the sewers. It came and went in the time frame of one to two seconds but left Skipper with heart palpitations for a long while. During that time a rodent scurried by, something splashed in the distance and something stomped through a nearby tunnel. With each occurrence the feeling of paranoia intensified greatly. Someone was out to get him. He didn't know why or who or how, but he knew someone was going to get him. They were going to kidnap him and torture him and then they were going to kill him. Why? He didn't know why. He just knew.

So every sound and sign of life found a way to terrify him. The dripping of water became a ticking time bomb for his nerves. Eventually the water droplets would tick one too many times and he'd go completely insane. The sound of a jumping fish sounded like the rise or a submarine from the water, all missiles were locked and aimed on him. The pitter patter of a mouse scurrying by was the march of an army coming to skin him alive and eat him for lunch.

He couldn't breathe and was thrown bitterly back into gasping for breath. He tried to be quiet about it but fear made everything louder than it actually was and he was filled to the brim with fear. He was filled with nightmares added to the continuous replay of the nightmare he'd been having. Nightmares of being torn limb from limb. Nightmares of him being shot and whipped, and cut, and broken, and bruised, and decapitated, and blown to bits, and squished like a bug. Nightmares about a million long and painful ways for him to die, and any one of them could happen at any moment.

But why would they? Why would someone be after him? What did he do wrong? Surely he'd done some ungreatful things in his life. He'd hurt people and left trails of disaster, but that was no reason to kill him or torture him. Everyone dose that in some point in their life, why was he so important. Maybe it was something personal. Who had he hurt recently? No one that he could think of. He hadn't really done much of anything lately. So why would anyone be hunting him down?

Unless of course they had a grudge. But how would they find him? They could be out on a crazy quest to kill him. No one's that crazy though. Well some people are. But why now? It's hardly a time for that. Actually anytime is a good time for revenge, if the person is wild enough. Ok, but who would be wild enough? Anyone could be. No not anyone. Private couldn't be. So not everyone but a lot of people. That doesn't mean anything. No it means something; it means you're gonna die soon. No it doesn't. besides who would look in a sewer. Not a human but you don't live in the human world now do you? No I don't… Exactly, so you're currently in danger. No I'm currently sitting in a sewer. You're also being hunted by some crazy chick with a gun. Who said it was a she? And who said she had a gun? It's just one of the many possibilities. I don't like that one pick a different possibility. Ok..uh…a pod of dolphins are headed down the sewer right now to eat you alive. I don't like that one either. I'm not expecting you to I'm just informing you. Well stop it. You stop it. No you stop it. I said it first. No, I said it first. You did not I-

A loud crash echoed through the tunnel followed by a series of chirps…it sounded like a pod of dolphins. Skippers heart rate increased again and his breathing became very labored and difficult. He was right, a pod of dolphins were coming to eat him.

He jumped up and bolted down the tunnel, away from the carnivorous dolphins. His heart raced his mind went insane, wondering if he was really fast enough on foot to out run dolphins. It was better than being in the water. It was difficult to run because he was still having difficulty breathing right. His lungs still refused to cooperate and just for the heck of it his eyes decided to glaze over. So he was stuck hyperventilating, half blind, terrified, trying desperately to escape a paranoid vision of penguin eating dolphins for nearly two hours as he got himself lost, unlost, and lost again, navigating the waterways of the sewer system of Manhattan.

And it all started with the rain.

_**I really enjoyed this chapter. It was quite interesting writing from the POV of a Skipper going insane.**_

_**I hope you liked it too. ^^**_


	13. the apple tree

He sat up in an apple tree slowly going mad as his mind and his body fought a devastating civil war. He had been previously running for three hours before coming upon this apple orchard. He ran amongst the trees a while before climbing into the middle one of them in hopes that the dolphins would lose his scent. The thought had occurred to him when he tripped on a fallen apple. It suddenly came to him then that apples had smells and if he sat with them they could mask his penguin scent and the dolphins would become uninterested.

So there he sat his heart rate slowly pacifying as his body fought wildly against its master in an attempt to overpower his entire being with fear and paranoia. His mind fought off the brutal attack with reason. However reason only lasted so long before the crazed power of fear overwhelmed and replaced reason in a brutal coup d'état.

His body wanted to keep running, to get as far as possible from the threat. He didn't want to die. He really didn't want to get eaten live, especially by dolphins. He still didn't know why they were after him in the first place, but his body knew they were there…and they were hungry. His sixth sense told him so and his body refused to ignore it. He couldn't just sit there and wait to be eaten alive by clinically insane dolphins.

His mind knew it better to stay and wait out the enemy, if one even existed. Dolphins by nature rarely left their home in the water and when they did it was only for a short period of time after which they would have to return to the sea or river or wherever they came from. In other words, dolphins didn't travel to apple orchards in landlocked areas where sources of water were mostly shallow streams rushing towards bigger rivers miles away. It was simple really; you just had to know the characteristics of dolphins. The other idea was the realization, as vague as it might be, that he was going mad. He knew in a way that he wasn't acting normal and that the things he felt were unethical and without logical reason. He didn't like logic anyway but he understood some of it and he knew deep down that he wasn't thinking logically.

Although his mind knew that if there was an enemy he should wait for it to leave, his body still wanted to run. His body would periodically lurch forward, almost leaping out of the tree before his mind was able to command it to sit, thus slamming himself time and time again into the hard trunk of the tree. His body shook and trembled even though his mind wasn't truly scared at all and his heart rate sped up again even though mentally his nerves were at ease. His body sensed something was coming for him. It knew someone was after him following his every move. Planning a very cunning and clever trap that the most alert and innovative minds wouldn't be able to avoid. A plan that involved terrible, terrible events and even worse consequences for all involved. But his mind couldn't picture it. The idea that coursed through his mind almost every day in the past had suddenly seemed childish and silly. His mind couldn't conceive any of it to hold any truth at all. Nothing of the sorts had happened to him in the past. Not after the nightmare's events anyway. And it had been such a substantial amount of time since then.

But his body knew. It knew something was very wrong. If only his mind would listen. It kept fighting and fighting but nothing worked. Every time it launched itself forward in an attempt to leave the tree, his mind would somehow catch it and throw it back down to on the branch, once again slamming it into the trunk of the tree.

His mind worked very hard for this control; the ability to suppress the body's actions. And it would've tired the body out if it hadn't been interrupted. If a new assault hadn't suddenly aroused from the far depths of deep rooted terror and brought forth a familiar and invincible foe. If only…if only…

If only the nightmares stayed in the far depths for a little while longer. If the face had stayed in the shadow and the pains under the covers of darkness which existed within his very own mind. If only they stayed locked up where they were…maybe…maybe his mind could've won. Maybe then his body would've tired and fallen under the minds complete control as it usually does in all living beings.

But the nightmare interrupted his efforts. The nightmare bombarded his defenses and destroyed his castle. Beat down every obstacle his mind threw at it until it reached the throne and murdered the king. In his own castle. His very own castle.

The visions returned and the pains of course accompanied them. Just as before the vivid sounds came soon after and the three together played a symphony of terror and destruction that started within his own head and leaked into his body, poisoning every last inch until it seemed as though he was really there. Again. Feeling and hearing and seeing all the terror time has failed to erase.

The corrupt senses that assaulted him were worse than before. The visions were so unrealistically clear and the sounds so vivid…so loud and horrifying. Then there was the pain. The wounds that poured blood that really wasn't pouring and caused bruises and breaks although the body and bones weren't really touched at all. The pain that was ten times worse than it had been in the past. Ten times worse than the injury really should've caused.

And it lasted longer this time too. Much…much longer.

But eventually it stopped. The overpowering sounds of his screams dissipated and the burning ache of pain subsided. They were replaced by the sound of rain and the feel of tiny warm drops tapping away at his feathers. The visions of stone walls and blood were replaced soon after with the sight of an old stone path flooded by rain.

It was raining. He was walking. He had moved somehow while his mind was trapped in the visions of the nightmare. His body had taken control and ran. He didn't know where he was. All he knew was that he was walking on an old stone path…and it was flooded by rain. All he could feel was the rain, soft and warn against his tense shivering body as the scent of the cool crisp drops that filled the air.

The path he walked on was surrounded by rolling fields as far as the eye could see. The fields had patched of pink and yellow flowers. And grass. Were there were no flowers there was grass. It was short, maybe a few inches tall; the color of summer, dark green but subtle and warm. Comforting. The grass caught the rain and held onto it for a while, letting go just in time to catch more rain. It made each blade glisten with the tender light of the cloud hidden sun and added the scent of fresh grass to the air. The sky was grey. It was a light grey evenly distributed along the sky so that no one spot was darker than the others.

It was peaceful. Full with tranquility, the likes of which he hadn't experienced in a long time. It came at the exact moment that it was needed most and it forced everything to disappear. His body and mind finally agreed again and the nightmare was forced to recede back into the shadows for a while.

It was as if the world saw his ongoing struggle with himself and his past and decided to let him rest a while.

It was Mother Nature taking care of her lost child. Easing the suffering of her winter born son for as long a time as she could before throwing him back into the cruel world to find his own way. It was her way of rejuvenating him; her way of giving him strength to carry on. Because Mother Nature does care for her children. She sends them out to face the world however they may without so much as a word of advice…but she gives them a break from their sufferings every once in a while. To remind them that she is still there.

And then, when she has done all that she can, she throws them back. Takes her utopia away, leaving them no choice but to carry on. Leaving them no choice but to pick their struggles up where they left off and hoping that for once…just once, luck was on their side. Hoping that maybe something good will happen soon. And Mother Nature moves on to her next child, leaving the rest to their own rise or fall.

He was in the middle of the city again.

One blink and everything was gone. And he remembered. He remembered everything that had happened before his tranquility…and once again the fear that slept deep within the depths of his being sprang forth and conquered everything. His being fell once again to the nightmares mercy. But the nightmare had no mercy. It never did. It took its control and used it to all extents of its power.

The visions and the sounds and the feeling returned once more. This time even worse than before. This time louder and sharper and hotter than before. Every injury a thousand times worse than what it should've been. Each sound louder and stronger pumping endless fear through his veins. All the sights filled with more blood and detail, unleashing strong sickness that started in his chest and rumbled through his body and caused chills the likes of which he had never experienced before.

It was s if his nightmare had rooted deep within the inner workings of his mind and was slowly and painfully draining the life from his body leaving nothing but a terrified, empty shell of the man he used to be.

It was an illness and like most illnesses, if gone untreated the host will die.


	14. it's all in your head

He tried to push them away. He did his best but the nightmare held its control over Hus mind and body forcing onto him a terror unlike any other. He could still feel all the pain and fear and he could hear all the weapons and laughs. As he navigated the city all he could hear were laughs and chains, whips and locks. He couldn't hear the car horns or splash of puddles being driven through or the low rumble of feet pounding the sidewalks. He couldn't feel the cold night air or the slight wind as a car drove past. All he could feel was the cut of a knife, the wrath of a whip, the tickle of blood as it raced down his side and pooled beneath him.

He still had nocontrol over his body, but his body eventually wore out and he found a hidden spot behind a store dumpster where he sat with his mind still full of pictures and sounds from the past. He still felt the world was out to get him but now he was to tired to move. His breathing was still uncontrollable and his heart pounded like a base drum in his head.

He looked around, through the pictures that flew in and out of his vision, and tried to figure out where he was. He was closet to the zoo, only five or so minutes away, but he didn't want to move. The pain had subsided and he was afraid that movement of any kind would bring the pain back.

He was forced to run, however, when he heard clicking my h like that of a pod of dolphins. The penguin eating dolphins were unhappy with Hus attempt to evade than and had hunters him down to extract their revenge. He bolted out from behind the dumpster as his fear skyrocketed, his heart beat sped even more and his breathing became so uneven it could be considered deadly. Ran ran through the city past the park and straight into the zoo.

He was so scared and his mind was racing so fast that he ran rightinto Kowalski. The two of them tumbled over each other until they rammed into one of the coffee tables sitting outside the café. Skipper sat himself up unsure of what had just occurred, still unable to regain control of his body. His breathing was better than. Before but still nowhere near normal and he thought that if his heart didn't slow down soon it would explode. He searched the sky and everything he could currently see for signs of the killer dolphins.

Kowalski sat up and rubbed the back of his head, which had hit the metal foot of thetable, as he watched Skipper who seemed to be in the middle of a very serious panic attack. He put a hand on Skippers shoulder causing him to jump, to call Skippers attention. He could see the terror in Skippers eyes; god knows what that nightmare did to him. It had to be something dreadfully awful to do so much damage to Skippers mental health."Skipper?" he asked concerned, "are you alright?"

Skipper stared at Kowalski for a moment before he replied, "They're after me Kowalski". He whipped his head around looking in every corner he could see.

'Wow' Kowalski thought, ' he's really got himself into a bad state'. He gently squeezed Skippers shoulder and asked, 'Who skipper? Who's after you?"

The dolphins Kowalski," Skipper explained with a petrified tone, " they're mad at me."

Kowalski had no clue what Skipper was talking about but played along in hopes of finding out. " Why are they mad at you?" He asked much like a nurse to psyc patient.

"Because," Skipper said, his eyes still darting here and there in search of dolphins that his mind had forced him to believe were real, "I tried to hide from them in the apple trees but the pictures and the laughter came back, so i had to run. I had to get away and they didn't like that at all".

Kowalski had figured it out before Skipper had even finished. He had gone mad. Completely insane. Whatever had happened in his head, it must've been something traumatic, because it has definitely taken control of Skippers mind. But Kowalski didn't know what that was because Skipper didn't want to tell anyone what his problem was. He had caged it within himself and the results of his actions were devastating. He still had to do something.

He decided to start with the dolphins. He took a deep breath and in a calm persuasive tone said to Skipper, "Look at me". Whem Skipper couldn't hold eye contact due to his current condition, Kowalski took hold of his beak and forced him to look. "Skipper, there are no dolphins after you".

Butt-"

"No Skipper," he reaponded forcefully before Skipper could finish. "There are no dolphins after you. You don't need to be so frightened. You're home now. You're safe here. Nothing is going to get you."

They held eye contact for a while. Skippers breathing became closer to normal and his heart had finally calmed a bit. The pictures and feelings had left him, though he could still hear a faint laugh. He stared into Kowalski's eyes and discovered something rare and much needed. He found calmness in Kowalski's stare. It penetrated the deepest roots of his mind and faught off his nightmare releasing his mind from its stone cold entrapments. He was, for once, at peace.

But that peace wouldn't last for long. Much like mother nature's moments of utopia, this moment of peace would too dissipate and fade like smoke into thin air. He would have to face his fears at some point


	15. Strength

The comfort that Skipper drew from Kowalski didn't last very long. Within a few hours his paranoia was back and he found himself unable to mask his trembling. What he did manage to do was hide; maybe not so much from the visions or sounds as much as did from Kowalski and everyone else. He didn't want them to see him. Not like this.

Skipper was sitting amongst the boxes in one of the storage units in the zoo. As he sat there listening to the sounds of the city and his name being called, he thought. This time his thoughts were more organized and meaningful, having a goal to reach and a question to answer. First was the question he'd been asking since day one; why was this happening now? His nightmare, it came out of nowhere and it completely conquered his entire being. He hadn't thought about it in months, it hadn't even brushed his mind once, but all of a sudden…it was there. Why had it happened the way it did? That was the part he didn't understand at all. The nightmare always returned, that was a fact, but it never came when he was awake and never had it lasted for more than one night. It never affected him like this before. It never made him feel so vulnerable and helpless, never. So what then? Why was he feeling this way now? What was it that made this time around different? Was his mind finally caving in to the years of torment? Was he finally losing it? Going insane?

No. He couldn't go insane. He couldn't lose himself in the void of fear and break down from the inside. He made a promise to himself long ago, when he had his first nightmare; his first replay of those events. It wouldn't happen again. He would never be so helpless and lost. He would never let himself feel so devastated because he couldn't protect the ones he loved. That was the day he begged Johnson to train him. The day he vowed to protect the ones he loved.

And what was he doing now? Hiding. Hiding from the very people he vowed to protect. And why? Because he couldn't get his act together. He couldn't kick himself back into gear because his nightmare flashed before his eyes every time he got close. What would it take for him to be ok with it? What would he have to do? He wanted to face it head on, tell the world he could deal with it. With his past, with everything that happened during those years. The distant past.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid of it, of them, of him. After all he was dead and without a leader they had probably disbanded and went their separate ways. Unless… unless there was someone else calling the shots. Someone else that was taking the lead destroying lives, towns… families. Was that what he was so afraid of? Sure the thought crossed his mind, that when Manfredi and Johnson killed the man with the evil grin there might've been someone else to take control. Someone higher up that would just replace the man with the evil grin with another evil puppet. But he never really thought that was what he was really afraid of. It had always been just a side thought, something alongside the main terror to be afraid of. Like icing on the cake. But was it really?

The sounds of the city faded away, the boxes just dark brown shapes that he barely recognized. What he saw was far more intricate than boxes. What he heard more important than beeps and voices. In his mind was a movie, the real terror, playing something horrible over in his head. A movie of what his real fear was.

He saw fire, red and hot, blazing like a giant bonfire over black blocks jutting into the sky, broken and charred. Before that lay destruction, a post warlike scene with cars in pieces and burning, sitting abandoned in the streets, sidewalks uprooted before ruins of towers and buildings, walls barely standing, roofs scattered through the streets. It looked as if a nuclear bomb had struck the city. Bodies of the dead and dying lay almost everywhere you looked and the skies were dark gray with smoke from the fires. The air was thick and smelled of burning rubber and overcooked meat, it tasted like dirt. An explosion went off somewhere in the distance, then another. Somewhere someone moaned and a distraught scream of a loved one rang through the air. A flag hung by a thread on a pole nearby, shredded with only dull charred hints at what it used to be. He was standing in the gates of the zoo, or what was left of them. Before him stood a figure, black and menacing, no distinguishing features could be seen, though he wasn't human. He was a beast of sorts the average height of a chimpanzee. Smaller but similar figures stood behind him, they carried weapons of all sorts, ones he'd seen before. A ball and chain, a whip, multitudes of knives, a spiked club, many others as well. Then he heard a voice, dark and sinister. A demons whisper. The devils laugh. It spoke with a taunting whisper, amusement dancing in each word, clear as the skies in the summer.

"They're gone," it said, sending chills up his spine, "forever wiped from the earth. And where were you? Hiding, like the coward we all know you are? You thought you were brave didn't you? Thought you could handle it. For them. You made a promise remember? Too bad you couldn't keep it."

He started backing up. The figure stepped forward. "No," he replied distraught, terrified. "You're wrong."

"Oh? Am I? You think so? If I'm wrong then, where are they? Shouldn't you be protecting them? Shouldn't they be here somewhere?" the figures head swiveled around, quickly scanning the area. "Where did they go?"

"No."

"Yes. You've failed. They're gone. Dead! And what did you do?"

"No."

"Where were you when they needed you?"

"No. you're wrong."

"Where are they now? Dead? Lying under ruble? Scattered in pieces through the streets because you failed? Because you couldn't keep your promise?"

"No."

"You lost this battle Skipper. You failed. Know why? I can tell you why."

"No."

"Because you're weak. You're helpless. You've always been and you always will be. Or don't you remember? How you couldn't protect them. Your family. Your sweet mummy and daddy? Remember them? Remember the looks on their faces as they drew their last breath? Remember how you stood there and did nothing? Remember that! You let them die. You failed your mother, your father, and now you're failing these silly friends of yours.

He felt his heart rate increase, his breathing uncontrolled, body trembling. "No…no no no you're wrong!'

"They're gone and you did nothing to stop it. You broke you're promise. I killed them all and you failed to stop me. HaaHAA! You failed to protect them!"

The fire faded, the city blurred, sounds dampened and the air thinned. The demons voice faded away laughing. The voice of the man with the evil grin whispered in his ear.

"I may be gone, but if you think you're safe, if you think they can be saved, you're wrong. You cannot save them. Not when you're all alone" his voice began to fade "…not when you're so… weak and …spineless….."

Skipper jumped up from where he sat, the boxes came back into his sight, sounds crystal clear running through his head with the drumbeat sound of his racing heart and the demons laugh. His breathing was reduced to erratic gasps for air as his vision blurred from the water filling his eyes. Tears slowly gathered at the corners of his eyes and cascaded down the feathers on his face.

He pushed himself against the wall and listened to the sound of his own remorse. For his fallen comrades who really haven't fallen and for the weakness that wasn't really there. Or was it? He couldn't lose them. The demon wasn't right, the man with the evil grin a liar. He could protect them couldn't he? Was he really too weak?

His heart rate slowed but his breathing was still erratic, though not as bad. His throat hurt and his eyes stung, he was still crying, leaned against the wall of the storage unit. Was he too weak?

He was, wasn't he? He already knew that. He felt defeated and vulnerable. Wiping the tears from his eyes and sliding to the floor he realized that the man with the evil grin was right, he couldn't do this alone. He wasn't strong enough. He never was and he never would be. Never could be. It was just impossible for one person, one being to be so strong. The gods and mythical creatures people believed in maybe could but no mortal such as himself.

He was too weak. He could never protect them all by himself. But then again, whoever said he had to do it by himself? He couldn't let them die; he couldn't lose them, not like that. He had to protect them, keep them safe, keep them alive. But he couldn't do it alone. He needed help. He needed them to help him. Help him save them.

But that brought forth another issue. If they were going to help him protect them, then they would have to know. He would have to tell them…everything. The fire, the death, the devastation, the torture, everything. No holding back, no sugar coating. No craziness either. He would have to be straight with them. He would have to tell them the truth, the story as it really happened, without his crazed twist on it. He would have to open up to them, like he'd done to no one else before.

That's what he had to do. If he was going to protect them…if he was going to save them, he was going to need them to understand.

He was going to have to be strong. For them. There was no room for weakness.

Kowalski sat down on one of the café tables. He didn't know where Skipper had gone or why, but he knew Skipper would come home. He always did. He just hoped that this time when Skipper returned he wouldn't be so scared. The last time he came back he was borderline insane at best. Something about killer dolphins and apples. Whatever happened, however it went down, something was causing Skipper to lose it. He was reaching a new level of paranoia and Kowalski feared that if nothing was done to resolve his issue soon, Skipper would be too far gone to save. Kowalski was trying his best not to let that happen. He would do anything to stop that from happening. Anything.

He stared off into the horizon. The sky was turning a tangerine orange fading into pink, then blue as the sky stretched away from the setting sun. The sun, a giant ball of fire 93 million miles away. And Skipper, was he just as far from the earth? Where was he now? Sitting in an alley somewhere losing his mind? All alone? Where was his mind? Slowly drifting away, heading out towards the cosmos?

"Kowalski?"

"Hmm?" Kowalski looked down at Private. He watched as Private climbed up to him and sat on the table. He looked at private as he fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words perhaps.

"Where is he?" Private asked.

Kowalski could hear it in his voice, how worried he was. He sounded scared. Not knowing where Skipper was when he was in such a bad state had him worried. Kowalski couldn't blame him though. "He'll be back Private," he replied, "he always comes back."

"But what if he doesn't?"

Kowalski thought for a moment, of all the times where Skipper disappeared for a while or went on a mission solo and ran into trouble. He always found his way home. Always. One way or another he'd show up again. "He'll show up Private. Don't worry."

"How can you be so sure, Kowalski? How do you know?"

Kowalski heard the begging in Privates voice. He wanted to know that nothing was going to happen to Skipper. That Skipper was going to undoubtedly return home in one piece. But Kowalski didn't know how to make him feel certain about that. He had a gut feeling that Skipper was ok, but he didn't know how to convey that feeling to Private. " I don't know Private, but I know he'll come back. He always does. Why would he stop now?"

"Because he so frightened Kowalski. What if he runs away and never stoops running?"

"I don't know Private. I can't answer that." He looked down. He wished he knew. He wished he knew.

"I know." Private looked towards the horizon.

Marlene walked into the storage unit and saw Skipper staring at the ground. She hid behind a box as he picked himself up and lean against the wall. He took a deep breath and whispered, "I'm strong enough, I know I am." Then he turned and jumped up to a nearby window, staring out at something for a few moments before jumping out.

She stood back and wondered _,Strong enough for what?_ Still pondering, she walked outside and watched him run away. He wasn't headed towards the main gates; he was going in the opposite direction actually. _Strong enough for what?_ She had to find out.

She took a deep breath, taking in the evening breeze, and scampered after him, determined to figure out what he was strong enough for.


End file.
